Childhood Memory--
Today is Easter! It's warm out.
After we eat breakfast, I have to go to church with my mom and dad and little sister. I don't like church. Most of it is just sitting and listening. My butt starts to get sore. Mainly the man up front just talks and talks and keeps talking about stuff I don't know about. I think he's called the priest. He's pretty old.
Also, we do a lot of standing, kneeling, sitting back down, kneeling and standing back up. I don't sing in church, but I mouth the words so everyone thinks I'm singing. But I'm really not singing.
My parents sit between me and my sister. They probably think we're gonna bother each other. I bug her a little bit when my parents get in line for the crackers.
When we get home it's time for the Easter egg hunt. The Easter Bunny put stuff in my basket.....mostly jelly beans (I don't really like jelly beans that much, but they look nice) and chocolate. My dad is gonna give us 10 cents for every egg we find, and I know most of the hiding spots from last year. So I'll probably beat my sister! Oh, and he sad we get an extra dollar if we find the last egg. I'm not sure what I'll spend a whole dollar on. Maybe some Nerds. Or maybe that gum that has juice in it.
After that, my grandma will come over for dinner. I don't like ham.
Unreliable Narrator--
I was at the Twins game with my husband, William. This young kid bumped into me, and he was trying to reach into my purse! He and a bunch of his other friends started laughing right after that. They were probably laughing at me, but inside I was laughing at them. They're the ones that are going to end up in jail someday. The joke's on them!
I'm not racist. I'm not saying they were trying to steal just because they're black. Or colored. Or African-American. Whichever it is nowdays. I swear I saw his hand reaching for my purse. He said "Excuse me," but it was all part of the plan. I've read about things like this. Plus, he was wearing a red cap, and that's a gang color.
I just feel bad for these kids. They probably live in North Minneapolis, and I'm sure they're taught how to steal just to get by. I even voted for Obama. It's good to have a black man in the White House. My friends and I were joking around on Book Club night.......Cynthia said it should be called "The Black House" now......or at least the "Beige House." She's so funny. I think she had her fill of Chardonnay that night!
But seriously, I remember driving through the ghetto once when William took a wrong turn (as usual!), and I just felt so guilty. There were people running around everywhere. There were babies crawling across the street. I even saw a couple prostitutes, and a some guys that had to be gangsters or pimps. They were walking into McDonald's. At least they can afford a Happy Meal with their welfare checks. And I mean that sincerely. That's one of the great things about America.
So when those little black boys were laughing at me, I was crying for them. If they just would've asked me for some money, I would have happily given them some. After all, those sandwiches at Target Field are pricey! Especially for poor kids from the ghetto!
Final Assignment
13 years ago
Response to "Childhood Memory."
ReplyDeleteJamie,
I think you did a rather fantastic job of developing how ambiguous and procedural the act of going to a church service is from the perspective of a child; exactly as you describe it, pretty much the only early memories I have of going to any sort of church service are repeatedly standing up, sitting down, kneeling, and doing it all over again without having a clue WHY I was doing so! Furthermore, I think you did an equally fantastic job of developing how ambiguous and procedural cultural traditions are / can be in general. Although my family is not the least bit religious, we (and by "we" I really mean “they”) get sucked into these sorts of cultural traditions without really giving any thought as to why we are doing so – whether that be something as insignificant as furnishing traditional Easter baskets with stereotypically crappy candy, to attending a church service one out of the 365 days of the year.
Now here is where I get stuck – although I feel as though your anecdote is a wonderful observation and commentary on our sometimes unexplained / unrealized / unquestioned (however you want to frame it) perpetuation of tradition, I’m not necessarily sure what you could “do” with this anecdote. Similarly, I wrote a short anecdote about a time I pushed a childhood friend in a hole for apparently no reason. Although I feel the anecdote stands to communicate an interesting commentary on why kids do the bizarre shit they do, I’m not necessarily sure what I can “do” with this anecdote.
I guess the question that I’d like to bounce off of you is after we / our students conjure up and develop this sort of memory, what next?! How do we transition from this sort of generative exercise into framing / reframing what we generate into a short story?
I feel that this is where I’m sort of “stuck” so far in this course. Thoughts?
Overall, great and observational writing. Keep it up.
-Rick Filipkowski
Hey Jamie, I liked your Unreliable Narrator interlude. It reminds me a lot of Flannery O'Connor's work that is often done from a classist, racist, hoitey toitey type woman. It was convincing.
ReplyDeletecontin... (sorry posted prematurely) There was a piece in particular I liked where this woman used to imagine that Jesus would've liked to have dinner with her because she was well mannered and had clean, just-so things. In the end she has a vision (I think? Or else really dies?) of souls lined up and all the superficial is burned away before they can enter heaven. Wow, that got heavy there! But anyway, effective to show class bias, for sure!
ReplyDeleteLiked your piece.
Jessie Hausman